Trapped ➝ The Maze Runner ✓

Dead End

Dead End

(Minho's P.O.V)

~~~

Throb. Throb. Throb. That's all I could feel; a dull throbbing in my temples, slowly spreading through my forehead. My vision was shrouded, obscured by darkness. Shadows clung to my thoughts like leeches, draining all the life out of them. I couldn't feel anything but the pounding. I couldn't see anything but darkness. I couldn't hear anything, except a droning buzz and the thudding of my head. I wasn't even sure I was breathing.

I began to teeter over the cliff on which I was suspended, about to fall into the deepest pit of my mind, when a distant hum saved me. A hum that grew into a voice, muttering inaudible sounds, which eventually turned into words.

"Minho!" Something hard gripped my shoulder and jolted me away from the wall, hauling me back to reality. My hands twitched by my side, but I hadn't the strength to move any further. "Minho, come on ya shank! Wake up!"

Thomas? His voice sounded strangled and high, imbued with panic. Still I couldn't muster enough spirit to open my eyes.

He began shaking my shoulder, my whole body jolting. I felt a tingle ripple through my limbs. A small moan slipped from my tongue, my head jerked forward suddenly. My eyes remained glued shut as a sense of confusion washed through me. I couldn't remember what happened. Where was I?

"Hey, shank. Just wake up, would ya!? We gotta move before the bloody grievers come," someone growled in my ear, dangerously close.

I wasn't sure whether it was the mention of grievers or the sudden voice breaking through my thoughts, but I felt feeling return to my body and I jolted up. Pain rippled through my head and I clutched at my temples, feeling something warm and sticky seep through my fingers.

I felt the urge to speak and forced words to roll off my tongue in a dry voice. "What the hell happened?" I muttered.

Newt was crouched beside me and I squinted up at him, recognising the Maze walls looming around us.

"You tell us! You're the one who bloody passed out!" He huffed. But then his scowl resided and his gaze softened. "Your head okay?"

I grunted, still massaging my temples. "It's fine," I lied through gritted teeth as the thudding became more intense.

Newt suddenly turned away to look at Thomas, and I followed his gaze. The Glader was staring blankly into the darkness, his hands trembling.

"Hey, tommy. What ya doin'?" Newt called to him, just as confused as I was.

He didn't respond; his eyes were glued to the darkness. Newt frowned and walked over to him. "Hey, shank. What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

"Grievers," he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. Alarm rippled through me as I caught his words.

"Shuck! We gotta get moving!" Newt stalked over to me and held out an arm.

"Where to?" Thomas snapped, turning to face us as I reluctantly grasped his hand and he heaved me up. Pain lanced down my right leg, causing me to wince in agony. My foot didn't quite feel normal, and I hastily came to a conclusion that I'd broken it.

Newt was too busy glaring at Thomas, blaming him for getting them trapped in the first place. Really, I knew it was my own fault, though it was their decision to come back for me.

"Would you two shanks just shut it!" I bellowed, the Maze swimming precariously before my eyes; Thomas an addled blur in the distance. I slowly staggered back, outstretching a hand to steady myself.

"You okay, man?" Thomas asked, suddenly calmer.

I nodded, blinking away the grogginess. Though I still felt slightly dazed and disorientated. "Those grievers are gonna hear ya if you don't shut it. We need to move, else they're gonna find us," I declared in a hushed voice. "We'll keep moving, but keep a look out for those nasty machines, 'kay? Don't want to run into any, do we?"

Newt and Thomas shook their heads in mock obedience and I took a step forward, cringing as more pain rippled through me.

"Minho, you're in no condition to go prowling round the Maze the whole night," Newt said, shaking his head.

"I can manage," I insisted, stumbling forward, trying to block out the pain.

"Whatever. Let's go," Thomas muttered, jabbing a finger towards a passage to his left. "Through there. The grievers are straight ahead of us. It'd be suicide heading that way."

Newt and I silently agreed and he began walking forward, the darkness devouring him as he continued onwards, not glancing back. Newt began following, and I hobbled behind, trying not to let my pain show through my impassive guise.

We crept silently through small passages and turn-offs for what felt like hours; at least, I hoped it was. The longer we lasted without getting caught by those ghastly grievers, the more chance we had of surviving.

"How long we gonna keep walking in circles?"

"Until those Walls open back up and we escape this bloody hell-hole," Newt hissed, brushing a clump of dirt from his hair as more rubble rained down from above. The Maze walls loomed treacherously either side of us, basked in a darkness that looked just about ready to swallow us whole. I shook off thoughts of grievers stalking us in the shadows and struggled to catch up to my companions, realising I'd fallen behind again.

My foot was starting to feel numb with raw pain, the bones grinding together agonisingly with each tentative footfall. Footfalls that echoed much too loudly for my liking; the grievers were going to hear us sooner or later, and then there was no chance of escaping.

Just on cue, the distinct whirring and clanking of one of the very beasts drowned my heart in a sudden dread, sinking even lower in my chest. No, not yet. Please, not yet.

"Guys," I heard Thomas whisper, his voice trembling madly. "I think we'd better run."

It became easier to discern now; the irrational outline of the griever against the shadows, with its protruding spikes and razor-sharp blades, retracting in and out, slicing relentlessly through the air as it's bulbous body rolled towards us like a giant slug. I was momentarily frozen; my feet refused to budge.

Newt snapped out of it first, panic causing him to act. "Thomas," he hissed, grabbing the Greenie by the collar of his shirt and yanking him backwards. He snapped out of his daze and bolted round, away from the wicked machine. Newt followed behind, tugging my sleeve as he went.

I forgot all the pain that plagued me and dashed after Newt. He was visibly struggling to limp away, his leg dragging behind him, hindering his movements. Thomas had vanished, but Newt seemed to be able to discern his outline as he sprinted forward with confidence. I hoped to God Thomas knew what he was doing; he led us into the griever in the first place.

I risked a hasty glance over my shoulder, a fleeting jerk of my head to glimpse the horror trailing after us. Fear rolled through me, forcing me to go faster, running blindly as perspiration clouded my vision.

Then slap! straight into Newt I ran, grinding to a halt as he tumbled forward into Thomas.

Why had we stopped? The griever was right behind us!

Then the reason became clear, and all hope that had managed to remain in my heart kindled out like a distinguished flame.

Thomas had led us to a dead end.